Did it count?
Recently I've spent more time that I would like filling out census forms. We received three census forms to fill out over the course of three months and I filled them out each time. They were all legal, not scams, they just got lost in the mail? To complete our 2010 census experience we were finally visited by a census worker in the middle of a small get together at our home. I told her I had filled out three forms and sent them in and then asked her if and when this counting business would finally be over for us. Our session took awhile because she was hard of hearing and would put down incorrect information. I wanted our names spelled right and the other information to be correct but she wouldn't let me fill it out myself.
In 1930 a census worker visited my Grandfather's home in Bracketville, Texas. I am able to view what Mrs. Maude O'Mara, the census worker, wrote down for the household. Most of the information is incorrect. From what is written and what I know I can just about see and hear what might have transpired between my great-grandmother Juana and Mrs. Maude O'Mara. My great-grandmother, tired of repeating the correct pronunciation or spelling of her name or attempting to speed things up gave the name of Jennie. She is listed as 38 years old, same age I was when I filled out the first two census forms. Her husband and children are listed but a few of their names are wrong. Some mistakes are Gilberto is listed as Alberto. But the name that really puts the scene in my head is Atanacio, age 3 written as Itawasir. This made an impression on me because with her Spanish accent or in broken English I can hear how the letter A could be pronounced or understood as the letter I and so on. Our census taker would begin to write something down that made no sense at all and I wondered why until I noticed the hearing aid in her ear. I spoke louder.
The modest wood frame house my Grandfather called home in 1930 still stands as it has for almost 100 years now. We used to visit my great-aunt when she lived there and she'd point out several locations where the memories of their childhood have continually played over and over. It helped me develop an idea of who my Grandfather was as a child, something that was very important to me as a child myself. When I was kid, I wanted to know how everyone in my family was as a kid and would ask so many questions and beg to look into photo boxes and always appreciated whatever relics were generously handed down to me. Seeing him written down as six years old in the census record makes me wonder what he was doing while his mother spoke with Mrs. Maude O'Mara. Was he right by her side or out in the yard playing with the pack of stray dogs he'd collect daily?
I once asked my Grandfather what sort of toys he had to play with when he was a little boy and he told me just the ones he would make himself or his father would make for him. He went on describe sling shots and wooden toy guns that shot rubber bands, swings and ropes hanging from trees and kits made of butcher paper. The following weekend my Grandfather made my brother and I each a sling shot made from an old tire and a sturdy limb he had cut from one of the pecan trees in the yard. He then gave us a toy wooden gun he made from some pieces of old wood he had around the shed and the gun shot rubber bands when the trigger made from a wooden clothespin was pressed. That summer I remember all we wanted to do was go to my Grandparents house to shoot at tin cans with our sling shots and toy gun. Eventually our Grandfather had to make us another toy gun because we weren't good at sharing the first. He also gave us each a kite made from brown paper bags, and sticks. They were attached to long balls of string he had been collecting and they both had tails made from rags cut into thin strips. We played with our kites all day and my Grandfather stayed outside with us for hours and hours while we ran and had fun.
We always played with our toys until they broke. The last time I visited my Grandparents I saw in a wood pile a piece of broken wood with a clothespin attached to it. It had been outside in that pile for over twenty years and there was nothing left of it to save. Being one for tangible relics I felt a bit sad about not having been able to save that perfect Y shaped sling shot or any of the toys that were made for us. I went inside and mentioned that summer to my Grandfather who was able to recall making the toys and the entire summer of fun and my brother shooting at squirrels and our fights over the rubber band gun and how our kites went so high when we flew them that one afternoon. I went looking out at his front yard and there were the memories playing out over and over under the shade of the pecan trees.
In 1930 a census worker visited my Grandfather's home in Bracketville, Texas. I am able to view what Mrs. Maude O'Mara, the census worker, wrote down for the household. Most of the information is incorrect. From what is written and what I know I can just about see and hear what might have transpired between my great-grandmother Juana and Mrs. Maude O'Mara. My great-grandmother, tired of repeating the correct pronunciation or spelling of her name or attempting to speed things up gave the name of Jennie. She is listed as 38 years old, same age I was when I filled out the first two census forms. Her husband and children are listed but a few of their names are wrong. Some mistakes are Gilberto is listed as Alberto. But the name that really puts the scene in my head is Atanacio, age 3 written as Itawasir. This made an impression on me because with her Spanish accent or in broken English I can hear how the letter A could be pronounced or understood as the letter I and so on. Our census taker would begin to write something down that made no sense at all and I wondered why until I noticed the hearing aid in her ear. I spoke louder.
The modest wood frame house my Grandfather called home in 1930 still stands as it has for almost 100 years now. We used to visit my great-aunt when she lived there and she'd point out several locations where the memories of their childhood have continually played over and over. It helped me develop an idea of who my Grandfather was as a child, something that was very important to me as a child myself. When I was kid, I wanted to know how everyone in my family was as a kid and would ask so many questions and beg to look into photo boxes and always appreciated whatever relics were generously handed down to me. Seeing him written down as six years old in the census record makes me wonder what he was doing while his mother spoke with Mrs. Maude O'Mara. Was he right by her side or out in the yard playing with the pack of stray dogs he'd collect daily?
I once asked my Grandfather what sort of toys he had to play with when he was a little boy and he told me just the ones he would make himself or his father would make for him. He went on describe sling shots and wooden toy guns that shot rubber bands, swings and ropes hanging from trees and kits made of butcher paper. The following weekend my Grandfather made my brother and I each a sling shot made from an old tire and a sturdy limb he had cut from one of the pecan trees in the yard. He then gave us a toy wooden gun he made from some pieces of old wood he had around the shed and the gun shot rubber bands when the trigger made from a wooden clothespin was pressed. That summer I remember all we wanted to do was go to my Grandparents house to shoot at tin cans with our sling shots and toy gun. Eventually our Grandfather had to make us another toy gun because we weren't good at sharing the first. He also gave us each a kite made from brown paper bags, and sticks. They were attached to long balls of string he had been collecting and they both had tails made from rags cut into thin strips. We played with our kites all day and my Grandfather stayed outside with us for hours and hours while we ran and had fun.
We always played with our toys until they broke. The last time I visited my Grandparents I saw in a wood pile a piece of broken wood with a clothespin attached to it. It had been outside in that pile for over twenty years and there was nothing left of it to save. Being one for tangible relics I felt a bit sad about not having been able to save that perfect Y shaped sling shot or any of the toys that were made for us. I went inside and mentioned that summer to my Grandfather who was able to recall making the toys and the entire summer of fun and my brother shooting at squirrels and our fights over the rubber band gun and how our kites went so high when we flew them that one afternoon. I went looking out at his front yard and there were the memories playing out over and over under the shade of the pecan trees.
Labels: nostalgia
1 Comments:
lovely t.
xo p
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